Goggles and Shattered Alarm Clocks
by Chrissy Truman
Summary: Rachel has an absent, arrogant, overly glorified hero of a father, a series of shattered alarm clocks and the occasional tendency to accidentally burst into  song.  Yllib is the product of her father's failed attempt at cloning himself. One half clone and one daughter. It was bound to happen. Reviews please! Just some fun!
1. Chapter 1

**Goggles and Shattered Alarm Clocks**

**AN: I'm not entirely sure where this one came from. It's just fun. Fun to write, hopefuly fun to read.**

**Disclaimer: Joss is Boss. I own nothing except Rachel and Yllib.**

Summary: Rachel has an absent, arrogant, overly glorified hero of a father, a series of shattered alarm clocks and the occasional tendency to accidentally burst into song. Yllib is the product of her father's failed attempt at cloning himself.

The alarm clock was ringing. Sleep was needed and that damned alarm clock was ringing.

"Shut up!" a voiced growled from a mound of comforter. Punctuating this sentence was a fist, shooting out from the covers and shattering the alarm clock. "Crap."

Her mother was talking about it again. On and on about Captain Hammer. How many times had she heard this story?

"It was late!"

"I was drunk. Really, really drunk."

"He just looked so sad."

"I was young!"

A list of excuses for an absent, arrogant, overly glorified hero, and Rachel's series of shattered alarm clocks and the occasional incontrollable bursting into song.

"Really though. I'm not going to buy you a new one. We're low on money as it is," her mother finished, shuffling through the stack of envelopes. Most of them were probably bills. "We'll manage. Always do," her mother muttered, more to herself than Rachel.

School. Rachel was not a fan of school. People followed her around in devoted slobbering mobs. Another lovely gift from her father.

Taking refuge in the small space between the lockers and the ceiling she watched.

A girl. Blonde hair, blue eyes, thin face and somehow very familiar.

"Yes, dad. I submitted my application to the League this morning," she said into the phone caught between her shoulder and cheek and she carried a large stack of books and paper. "Yes, I included that angrily letter from the Vice Principal. Yes, dad. Yes. Right. I know how selective Bad Foal can be. All right. Yeah. Bye dad," she finished in exasperation. She set the stack of books down on the ground by the lockers and then knocked her head up against one tiredly. Instantly the door flew open pushing her out of the way releasing a series of mechanical arms, green smoke and flashing red lights. A couple of text books shot out and hit the opposite wall of lockers, leaving scorch marks on the metal.

"Balls!" the girl growled scrambling back to her feet. "This is the last thing I need today,"

She began wrestling with the mechanical arms, trying to force than back into the locker. The crowd of people filling the halls that had been shocked by the initial explosion laughed and stared.

"_Stand back everyone_! _Nothing here to see!_" Rachel sung dropping down from the top of the lockers dramatically. "Not again! I am so tired of this freaking-_The day needs my saving expertise!_ Crap. Sorry about that. Look do you need some help?" Rachel said quickly before another burst of singing escaped.

"_Don't plan the plan if you can't follow through_! Uh, sorry about that. Yes. Help would be nice,"

"Did you just randomly burst into song?"

"-Ignore that. Yeah, it tends to happen all the," twitch "time,"

The books were gathered, the mechanical arms were crammed back into the locker by Rachel and the two girls were left sitting in the now empty hallway.

There's a thing about nemesis. They always recognize each other. It can even transcend the generations.

"Doctor," Rachel said staring at the opposite wall.

"Hammer," was the flat response.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Rachel said shaking her head.

"I don't think I said anything,"

"Huh. Well," Rachel said standing up and offering her hand back to the girl. "I'm Rachel. And you are?"

"Yuhlib,"

She took the proffered hand using it to pull herself up.

"Yuhlib?"

"Yeah. Spelled Yllib. I mostly just go by Lib,"

"What language is that?"

"I'm, um," twitch "I don't know,"

"I heard you talking on the phone earlier. Something about getting into the League and Bad Foal?"

"It was girl scouts!" Lib exclaimed twitching suddenly. "Girl sco- _I can not believe my eyes!"_ she caught herself quickly. "Sorry,"

"No, it's okay. I understand wha- _Everyone's a hero in their own way!_ Agh! It's worse than usual today,"

"Tell me about it," Lib muttered."I need to go work on a plot. I mean a project! Definitely meant a project!" twitch

"Okaaay?" Rachael said slowly, watching the girl stumble off down the hallway, a pair of goggles dangling from the pile of stuff.

Yllib remembers everything from her first entrance into the world.

There was a light. A lot of light and suddenly all of her molecules beginning pulled together and... There was a world, a whole world waiting for, a long with a very confused man in a white coat, gloves and goggles.

"Ah, AH ah Ah Ah ah. Baby. Not a perfect process. Cloning. Should have been a perfect replica, an adult," twitch "Where did the other half come from?"

There was a lot of muttering and cursing and then Dr. Horrible stared down at the baby.

"Baby. Right. MOIST!"

So that's how Lib grew up. Sleeping in the lab, playing with Uncle Moist and hating Captain Hammer. Hating Captain Hammer with a fierce and definite passion.

Her first words had been

"Captain Hammer: Corporate Tool,"

You should have seen how proud Billy was.

Now there was all this nonsense with the Junior League of Evil. The more Lib thought about it, the less she wanted it. World domination had never been her thing, something that must have come from that mysterious other half of DNA. No, she much rather wanted to build and sell weapons and other evil necessities, like web domains, to the take over the world types. She didn't want the spotlight like her dad.

She wanted the little ropes that connected her to those who stood in the spotlight. She could make them do all sorts of horrible things, like advertisements during their heists. Her products would be the best, if she could ever get them to work properly.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Okay. I am aware this is very short. The problem is that this was a one-shot. Then people in the comments (okay two people) talked about me updating. And I decided. Yeah, why not give it a go. I sort of lost the flow of the story. Meaning voice and writing style and I'm struggling to get it back. So I'm putting this up to see if it's actually worth continuing. Thanks for the fantastic comments.

Disclaimer: Joss is the one and only boss

By the time Yllib reached the apartment she was exhausted. She'd lost her eyebrows in a "minor" explosion and she wasn't entirely sure they would grow back this time. Billy had warned her that Epicurium, if not stabilized with the proper amount of Ubertonian, could be highly volatile. But the ionizer should have taken care of that. Or at least she thought it should have.

All of the data had been promising. The numbers lined up, but stubbornly refused to mix with reality. That was always the problem. Reality. None of her equations, ideas or even theories seemed to be good enough for the great cosmic makeup of the universe.

She kicked at an umbrella holder that was, of course, bolted to the ground. She stubbed her toe. She swore under her breath as she nudged open the door to the apartment. Uncle Moist was there. He was always here. Lib occasionally wondered if he had an actual home, or if he just stayed with numerous people. Hourglass was they're too waving her arms about dramatically as usual.

"V'at did I tell you! "'E's got the election in ze bag! If only Doctor 'ad listened to me!"

"Mmm," Moist said absentmindedly flipping through a magazine.

Lib wrinkled her nose, she had planned on reading that later. It would take hours before it was readable again.

"Hey," Lib said dumping the remnants of her plot on the floor.

**Oh hey there. If anyone is actually still here...This is a small conclusion to that last snippet and then yeah...I'm going to commit to write something more because some lovely people actually decided to follow this recently, and I want to keep working at it. I really do. So yes. Here's this. More to come. Two weeks tops. And thanks to the people who were here a really long time ago.**

"Hey Lil' Doc," Moist called, grinning at her from behind his dripping magazine. "How'd the plot go over."

"Really close to actual plausibility."

"Ouch. Sorry, kid."

"Yeah."

"Where's Billy?"

"V-logging I think." Moist leaned in conspiratorially. "Johnny Snow was here earlier."

Lib slapped a palm to her face.

"Did he steal our antifreeze...again?"

"What do you think?"

"Poser."

"I know right he's so not your guys' nemesis," Moist snorted, trying and failing to turn another page. Hour Glass nodded in agreement.

"You mean, not Doctor Horrible's nemesis."

"Same difference," Moist said, poking his tongue out, as he concentrated on separating two of the pages.

She rolled her eyes, and snatched the goggles off her head, moving off down the hallway of the apartment. It wasn't the same thing. She wasn't the same person. If anyone would care to listen to her she had a Bachelors Degree in Lousyness. Although, she thought, unwillingly humming along to another one of those songs that plagued her, that was probably the worst title ever.

"This is Doctor Horrible, and Bachelor of Lousy."

It's not exactly like she'd picked it. She'd been stamped with it. She'd been designed hadn't she, partially at any rate.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: So I may have lied about the timing. I actually had this finished a while ago, but there was a lot of it that I thought was really stupid, so I consequently cut it down to this. It's a lot easier to write about Lib. Rachel is being incredibly frustrating right now. Next chapter will be longer, and oh, what fun we shall have. **

**Peace.**

"Look, hold on! Please. Really, just wait one second!"

Rachel was debating the possibilities. In front of her a boy sagged, gasping for air and flapping his hand at her desperately. He looked normal. His hair was the color of averageness, and his body screamed stereotype although which stereotype it was, was a bit hard to discern. There were really only three problems.

Problem number one: his shirt. Glaring unhappily from the folds of his black t-shirt was an uncomfortably large picture of Rachel's face.

Problem number two: he'd been chasing her for the past quarter mile.

And problem number three:

"This is your hair," he said with a somewhat manic grin, shaking a small lock of dark brown hair at her.

"Oh. God." Rachel said quietly.

Rachel's possibilities were these:

Jump over a building and keep running till the poor creep gave up.

Or.

Knock him out cold...stick him on the next bus out town.

Or, she could try spontaneous combustion. Who knew, right?

What Rachel forgot was that these people always came in threes, and that she didn't always have full control over the situation.

"_So they say you actually talked to someone today. Talked to who?_" Two other be-shirted entirely normal looking, but entirely insane people popped up next to the first, and they were singing.

"_Get away from me,"_ Rachel half sung ducking underneath a bush, in an attempt to make a break for it. When turned around they were right in front of her mid song.

"..._We have a problem with her._ (This is your homework)."

"SHUT UP! I'm not doi- _This is so nice, I just might sleep with the same person twice."_ Rachel's face contorted into a twisted scowl, as she tried to clap a hand over her mouth as the rest of the slightly muffled lyrics tumbled out."_They say it's better the second time. They say you get to do the weird stuff."_

"_We do the weird stuff_."

"FOR THE LAST TIME, I'VE NEVER SLEPT WITH ANYBODY!"

"_This is your dry cleaning bill...four sweater vests."_

"That's a lie!" Rachel said hastily snatching at the slip of paper. "I don't wear sweater vests! I didn't inherit anything like a deep, passionate love for them...or anything!"

_"We are perfect for you, so they say._"

It went on like that for several minutes, Rachel somehow finding herself at a stupid ceremony for some new statue.

It took hours to get home. People kept stopping her on the streets because there were cats in trees, rogue currier vans, and some idiot stealing anti-freeze.

Rachel didn't want to be a hero. And no, she didn't want to be a normal girl. Rachel had met far too many "normal" girls to want anything to do with them. Rachel just wanted everyone to leave her alone. It was suffocating.

Apparently people hadn't gotten the memo, but seventeen years ago Doctor Horrible had ended heroes for good...in LA. Well, not all of LA but most of it. Okay, like a small section of it. But that was beside the point; heroes were over with. So, what if there was anarchy, and the Thoroughbred of Sin galloping through the streets with a host of cowboys. It wasn't Rachel's problem.

Rachel shuffled down the sidewalk, and tried to kick an abandoned coke can. She missed, kicked a chunk of concrete out of the side walk and sent it flying through a window across the street.

There was Rachel, and there was the glass, and there was a higher power laughing at her, she just knew it. Shoving her hands into her pockets Rachel stumped across the street, and looked up at her mother hopelessly through the gaping hole in their apartment window.

"I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter anymore," her mother said tiredly, stress etched in her face. "It's not, it doesn't mean...," she trailed off. "Something's happened."

The eviction notice flapped on the door, the wind turning into a flag blaring red flag against the flickering street light.

**Woah plot twist! Homeless. ****_Can you lend a helping hand to shelter those who need it?_**


End file.
